


Six Step Program

by yin_again



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Darcy Lewis and Loki Friendship, F/M, Loki Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 01:53:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 19,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/668913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yin_again/pseuds/yin_again
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki is a douche.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Epilogue

Loki is a douche. This is no secret. He's a douche because he acts like a douche, and if it walks like a douche and talks like a douche and acts like a douche, it's pretty much a douche.

No one is under the impression that Loki is nice or sweet or cuddly or even not a phenomenal jackass.

Then he goes and kidnaps Darcy, and these impressions do not change. Except…except, Darcy may not be a freakin' astrophysicist, but she's sneaky as fuck and she can produce really top-notch bullshit practically on demand – it's her superpower.

This is Darcy's story.


	2. Masterminds and Movies

"I'm a mastermind?" Darcy yells at Loki. "I'm the hidden brain trust behind SHEILD, the Avengers, and even Director 'I got my eye on you' Fury? Why not throw in the President and his merry band of douchebags while you're at it. You've lost your effing mind. And take off that stupid hat. I can't take you seriously with antlers, dude."

"It's a helm!" Loki says from the other side of the room, staring sulkily out the window.

"Antlers," Darcy sing-songs, then starts humming "Rudolph".

He turns on her, and the hat – _the helm_ \- disappears, but his eyes go all scary red and she's pretty sure the room's temperature drops by about ten degrees. She hopes that's just a metaphor, 'cause, dude, frost giant. And, great, now she's earwormed with "Frosty the Snowman', and it's _March_ , and Loki's gonna eat her soul.

"Um," Darcy says. "You look more attractive without it?"

The red recedes, and his eyes are actually kind of pretty and, oh, fucking fuck, she's lost _her_ mind and he's gonna eat her soul _slowly_.

Like he's justifying the fact that he kidnapped her from a movie theater (and now she'll probably never get to see the end of the new _Bourne_ movie), Loki rattles off his 'facts'. "You are in a high-visibility position in your 'headquarters'. All of the minions defer to you. You have full access to the higher-level SHIELD operatives and all the Avengers. You control where they go, when they go, and what they take with them."

"Dude, I'm a _secretary_! That's what we do! It doesn't mean we're _in charge_ of anything. We just know everything. Oh, crap – I might be a mastermind! Please don't kill me; I need to make them give me a raise for being a mastermind. Man, I wonder if I could get that on my business cards? If I had business cards, which I don't…" Darcy trails off when Loki's eyes start glowing again. "In conclusion," she says hurriedly, "I'm not a good hostage; you can do way better."

"You are quite strange and talk endlessly. Is this what I have to look forward to for the entirety of my exile? This is untenable." Loki actually looks pained.

Whoa, exile. Loki's fucked-up family or whatever from Asgard has exiled him to Earth? Christ on a cracker. Yay! Another supervillain. "That," Darcy says, "is the worst news I've heard all day, and this morning I heard that Swedish House Mafia broke up. That might be a lie, though. TMZ isn't exactly a reputable source, ya' know. Or, maybe you don't."

Loki suddenly appears sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of her. She can't think of anything else to do, so she tilts the tub of popcorn that amazingly survived magic transit and shakes it a bit. "There's still some artificial butter-flavored grease on it."

He takes a piece and puts it in his mouth. He chews it twice, and then spits it across the room. "That is vile!"

Darcy eats a few pieces, then nods. "Yeah, Regal's popcorn is pretty inferior to AMC's, but they've got the seats that lean way back and those nifty drink holders…and I should shut up, right, 'cause your eyes are going red again, and yeah." She stuffs a handful of popcorn into her mouth to shut herself up.

Loki hums a little under his breath. "So," he says liltingly. "If you aren't a 'mastermind', then perhaps it would be expedient to kill you and find a better hostage."

Darcy just blinks at him, 'cause what do you say to that? No thank you?

"Uh…no thank you?" Darcy says. "But, if you're exiled, I don't think you'll get any brownie points by killing a secretary who barely has security clearance high enough to use the Coke machine."

"What are 'brownie points'?" Loki sneers. "I have reviewed your language and used the Allspeak, but the meanings of many words you use are incomprehensible for the context in which you use them."

Darcy blinks. "It's called slang. And idioms. And figurative language. And metaphors and similes – and I can never remember which one uses 'like' or 'as' and which one doesn't. Anyway, do you have a phone?"

It's Loki's turn to blink owlishly. He hands over a top-of-the-line StarkPhone that just appears in his hand.

Darcy messes with it for a few minutes, then gives it back. "Now you have the Urban Dictionary app. You can look up the slang words. I also downloaded a couple of versions of Angry Birds and FreeCell. Everybody's got to have FreeCell – it's, like, a law. Anyway, just tap that little icon that says 'Urban' on it, and you can look up any words you don't understand."

"You continue to be quite different from other humans." Loki looks at the phone's display, then makes it disappear again.

Darcy wonders if he has magic pockets, and if he'd pull out something like a lion, or lunch, or whatever, if she asked. "I'm an outlier," she says. "It's when an observation is numerically distant from the rest of the data. Like if you have a box of cats with one dog in it. So, I'm not like the other girls, if you will."

"That is patently obvious." He's back across the room again. He turns. "Why would one have a box of cats?"

And, really, she's had enough of sitting in a magic suite in what's probably a magic hotel, and on a freakin' magic couch or whatever. Justifying herself to Loki just isn't on her Bucket List. And the guy in the Bourne movie was hot, and she's just Over. It. The fact that she's on a red tide and wants to spork her uterus and eat all the Midol ever just isn't helping her temper.

"Take me back," she says. "Put me back where you found me, or at work, or Florida, or in a cornfield in fucking Iowa, but I just want to go somewhere that is more like home and less like here."

He looks absolutely flabbergasted at her nerve. "You cannot speak that way to me."

"I just did," she returns, trying not to think about the fact that she pretty much just ended her own life – painlessly and quickly, she hopes.

He waves his hand, and she can feel herself kind of going transparent-y like Patrick Swayze in _Ghost_ , and she figures that she might as well go out with a bang. Just before she disappears, she tells him, "The first word you should look up is 'douche'."

She winds up back at the theater in her seat with her tub of popcorn in her hand, and it's the good AMC kind, and it's still hot.

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

 


	3. A Cornfield in Iowa

On Monday morning, Darcy swans into Coulson's office as soon as she gets to work. He's always there before her. It used to bug her, but now she's figured out that either he sleeps there or he can teleport, which brings her to the point at hand.

"Loki kidnapped me from the movie theater on 14th – matinee, _Bourne Legacy_. I'd give it four stars. The movie, not the kidnapping. I'd give the kidnapping two stars, but only because it didn't end in my messy death and I got upgraded popcorn out of it." She has to stop to take a breath.

Coulson's mouth drops open for a millisecond, and she's pretty sure he says "the fuck?" under his breath, but he's immediately back to the SHIELD baseline of "emotions are foreign to me and have no relevance to my life". He blinks twice, then hits a button on his phone without picking it up. "Please have a seat, Ms. Lewis," he says calmly.

Within 45 seconds, Fury and Hill are coming through the door, not running, but walking with great purpose. "What the hell is going on here?" Fury says, in his Fury-voice. Hill just slides into the chair next to Darcy's.

Darcy gulps, then recounts the whole conversation with Loki, leaving out as much commentary as she can just so Fury doesn't set her on fire with his eye.

"Exiled," Fury says, not asking. "Exiled to earth. What have I done to deserve this shit?" He drops his head into his hands, then looks up at Darcy, his face dead serious.

"Did you get any sort of…" He hesitates.

"Vibes?" Darcy says.

"Vibes," he repeats, spitting out the word. "That he was planning any mass mayhem or genocide while he's here?"

Darcy thinks about it a little bit. "No, he seemed more pissed to be here and whined a lot about how boring and stupid we all are. Oh, and he thought I was the brains behind this organization, which was hi-larious."

"What?" Fury yelps. Yes, he actually yelps. So cool.

"Oh, he just looked at all the stuff secretaries do and know and decided I was the brains behind SHEILD and the Avengers Initiative." Darcy relishes the looks on all three of their faces. It's kinda totally gratifying. "He called me a mastermind," she says proudly. "I told him that, though secretaries _do_ know everything and stuff, we aren't masterminds. And that we aren't paid enough." Looking at Hill's pursed up face, she swiftly adds, "Though that's not important in the grand scheme of things. In the small scheme of things, either, really."

"Is he planning on kidnapping you again?" Fury demands.

"I don't know," Darcy says, as if that isn't totally obvious. "We didn't make an appointment or anything. He's a god. He stopped _time_ while he was talking to me. He doesn't exactly have to call in and see if I've got an opening in my schedule to be kidnapped on Thursday at 11:15."

Coulson clears his throat. "Miss Lewis, how do you know he stopped time?"

"'Cause he put me back in the theater at _exactly_ the same point in the movie that he'd grabbed me. So he could kidnap me, or anyone else for that matter, and drop 'em back in almost before they left. I don't know if that's even possible. I'd have to ask Jane." Darcy is already sick of the conversation and knows full well she's going to be going through the story again and again for most of the day.

"You will speak to _no one_ about this," Fury growls, and Darcy wonders if she can get them to order in some breakfast or something, because the suckitude of this could be somewhat eased by a sea salt bagel with green onion cream cheese.

~*~

"What? Seriously?" Darcy says. "I've seen this movie – 'don't go into the corn' or something." She's standing next to a cornfield with Loki. She bets they're in Iowa.

"We're in Iowa, aren't we?" she asks. "I have really got to be careful what I say to you. You are totally literal."

"You said it was more like home," Loki smirks. "And I am the God of Mischief, you know."

At least he's not wearing the cape-and-antlers ensemble, just jeans and a blue sweater.  "You know I'm going to have to spend half a day talking to ol' One Eye about this when you send me back, right? I'll have to write a report and everything. Can't you just text me or something next time? I'll still have to write a report, but they'll be able to see what you said instead of me trying to remember."

Loki purses his lips. "You don't have to tell them at all."

OMG, he's pouting. He's the God of Pouting. "Stop pouting. Of course I tell them. They're my bosses and your track record with – oh, _humanity_ – isn't that great."

" _Humanity_ ," Loki sighs. "What a waste of time."

Darcy rolls her eyes. "You're a god; you can stop time. You're freaking immortal. You have the time to waste. Anyway, how long is your exile?"

"That's the problem," Loki says.

Darcy wraps her arms around herself, shivering. It's cold down here with the Children of the Corn. "Can we talk somewhere that isn't a cornfield in Iowa? And don't put us in a cornfield somewhere else just to be a dick."

He gives her a sly look, but in the next breath they're in a beachside, thatch-roofed bar. "Florida," he says, waving his hand like a magician.

Darcy immediately waves the bartender over and orders a Corona. Once the frosty bottle is in front of her, she takes a long sip. "Oh, that's good. Okay, we were discussing how long your stupid exile is."

"It's until I have 'gained knowledge and humility and respect for those I have wronged'."

Darcy spits her beer. "So you've been told to go to your Midgard and think about what you've done?"

His now beer-spattered sweater from the cornfield turns into a tight green t-shirt, and he's not bad, if you like them lean and creepy. "I suppose you could phrase it that way."

Darcy shakes with laughter. It's hilarious. He's on a freakin' _time out_ on earth. Like a big, cranky, world-ending toddler.

"I find your constant amusement at my expense to be very annoying," Loki says.

Wiping her eyes, Darcy continues to giggle. "Oh, dude. You really just don't get it. Teasing one another is just what humans do. It's kinda like affection. It's what friends do."

Loki doesn't say anything, but he won't meet her eyes. He's pouting again, but he also has that constipated look he gets when he doesn't understand something and is mad about it. Oh, she gets it. She said the 'f-word' - _friend_. Loki's seriously invested in his all-powerful, above-it-all persona, but he's got to be getting lonely. And, awwwww – he's kidnapping her to have a buddy. That's freaking adorable. Weird, but adorable. Actually, _terrifying_ and adorable.

"Hey," she says, a totally evil thought starting to take shape in the back of her brain. "Can you shoot me back to my office? I have a project to work on."

He looks even more constipated, like she's blowing him off. "I'm not blowing you off," she says soothingly. "I just really have something that I've got to work on. Give me a couple of days, then kidnap me again, okay? And I can't believe I just asked to be kidnapped."

"Fine," Loki snaps, and she's back in her office.


	4. Admit that you are a Douche

Darcy _cannot freaking believe_ that Fury and the Fury-ettes are letting her implement her kinda-evil plan! So cool!

She props herself up with her feet on her desk and sings out, "Loki. Loooooki. Pick up the phone; I want to talk to you! Don't make me leave some sort of cosmic voicemail."

He appears, sitting in her visitor's chair with his feet also propped up on her desk. "I don't have cosmic voicemail," he says, "but I am also not at your beck and call." He doesn't add in anything along the lines of "puny mortal", but she can hear it anyway.

"Please," Darcy says. "Like you were doing anything more important than pouting."

He glares, but he hasn't done the glowy-eyes thing at her since the first kidnapping, so she figures she's okay.

"Did you look up 'douche' in the UD?" She raises an eyebrow at him. She takes out her phone and opens the Urban Dictionary app.

"I did," he says. "It has nothing to do with me."

Darcy taps the toe of her shoe against the toe of his where they rest in the middle of her desk. "Oh, my friend, it _so_ does."

She peruses her phone, humming a little. "'Douche: a self-promoting asshole who contributes nothing to the world.' Sound familiar? How about 'a person who is a complete dick and thinks they can't be wrong'? Ooh, or 'Signs you may be a douchebag - One: you have a popped collar.'"

Loki looks down his nose at her and gestures elegantly to the collar of his t-shirt.

She hits a few more buttons on her phone and turns the display toward him. On the screen is a picture of him wearing his cape-and-antlers ensemble. "Popped. Collar."

He glares at her. She grins and turns he phone back to herself. "Okay, two: your hairstyle is either Douche-spikes or Slippery Slick-back." She simply looks at his hair, and he looks away.

"Three: you have 'tricked-out' your ride." Before even looking at him she flips her phone around to show a photo of him riding one of those Chitauri robo-cycles. "Aaaaaaand four: you always start fights. Obvs." She looks at him very seriously. "Dude, you're a douche. You need some sort of twelve-step program."

He's pouting again. "This has nothing to do with me. Everything you are talking about applies to you inferior mortal…peasants."

Darcy just grins. He may be a god, but he's walking right into her trap and it's so awesome! He's so freakin' _easy_.

"Seriously, Loki – you wouldn't make it two weeks as one of us _puny mortals_. It's all fine and good when you have your throne and your scepter and your antlers and your magic and your immortality, but you'd be useless without them."

"That is untrue," he says, putting his feet back on the floor and standing, his entire posture haughty.

"Bullshit," Darcy says. "I could work out a twelve-step for you, but you wouldn't make it past step one."

Loki narrows his eyes. "And what would you have me do as step one?"

"Step one," Darcy says, recrossing her ankles on the desk. "Step one is: admit that you are a douche."

He turns his back on her, and she can tell he wants to magic-up his shiny green cape just so he can swirl it as he leaves in a huff. "It's possible that some of those characteristics apply to me," he says. Then he _actually does_ magic-up his cape (but no antlers), and swishes away into thin air.

Darcy smiles and leans back in her chair. "What a douche," she says, then takes a deep breath and gets up to head to Phil's office. If Loki takes the bait, this will be epic.

 

 


	5. Admit that Only Someone who isn't a Douche can Restore you to Non-Douchiness

It takes him a while, but Loki eventually takes the bait, as Darcy knew he would. Loki can't stand a challenge. He can't stand letting some sort of imagined slight go without a fight. Or, you know, a huge attack on Midtown. He appears in Phil's office one afternoon. Darcy knows that Phil can see Loki, because Phil jumps a tiny bit in his seat.

"Agent Coulson," Loki drawls. "All in one piece, I see."

"Stop being such a douche," Darcy snaps at him. She's still hella-pissed about that stabbing bullshit. At the time, she hadn't known or liked Phil very much, but now he was a good boss and actually pretty cool.

"Loki," Phil returns casually. "I hear Mom really _doesn't_ like you best."

"Oh, Phil. Burn!" Darcy's so damn proud of him.

Loki looks like he just sucked a lemon. He turns to Darcy. "What is your…step two?

Darcy pulls out her phone and looks at her reminders. "Admit that only someone who isn't a douche can save you and restore you to non-douchiness."

"Stipulated," Loki says. "I accept your terms." He lays his hand on her shoulder and she feels a huge, taser-worthy, lightning jolt through her whole body. Her heartbeat is incredibly loud in her ears, and all the spit in her mouth dries up. She feels _huge_ , like everything she looks at is tiny, the way swimming pools look tiny from airplanes. It's the biggest rush ever.

"Holy crap!" she says when she can speak again. "What did you do?"

"The magic has to go somewhere," he says. "As my 'sponsor', I thought you should hold it for me."

And fucked if he hasn't found a way to trickster-god them. Magic Darcy was _not_ in the plan.

"Medical," Coulson snaps. "Right now."

~*~

"Look," Darcy says as soon as they're split up. Coulson stays with her and Fury and Hill go with Loki, who's still smiling smugly as they go. "You have to get Natasha out of town. On the other side of the planet would be good. She'd kill him on sight." Coulson nods, and Darcy goes on. "Thor and Jane have to beat feet to Asgard. Sibling comparisons will not help."

Coulson types on his tablet. "I'm putting you both in Avengers Tower for the duration." He pauses. "No objection?"

Darcy snorts. "Oh hell no. One of Pepper Potts' walk-in closets is probably bigger than my whole apartment. Move me in! Oh, I don't have to room with Loki, do I? I mean, I know I'm kinda in charge of him, but I need my space. Also, I think he's going to be a little needy, if you know what I mean."

"I'm settling the security arrangements right now – you'll get your space, don't worry." Coulson steps back as two doctors step up, and Darcy knows it's going to be a long afternoon. She closes her eyes and tries to think about what she's going to do with the freakin' _magic_. She has to reluctantly give snaps to Loki on that one. Dammit.

 ~*~

So, magic doesn't show up on CAT, PET or MRI scans. It doesn't do anything to blood, saliva or pee. She draws the line at a spinal tap. They want to start testing what she can do, but she's tired, and she knows that Loki's done, and they've got stuff to do before they move into the tower.

Phil assigns them a car and driver and two bodyguards, and slips her an envelope that has a New York driver's license, a U.S. passport, a Social Security card, a SHEILD ID badge and a Stark Towers ID badge, all in the name of Leo Hill. She has to wonder how Maria Hill feels about that one. Another envelope inside the first holds Darcy's Stark ID and an American Express card in her name, along with a note from Phil that says, "Your things will be moved to the Tower. Behave yourself'."

Loki's been quiet since they left SHEILD. Darcy leans up and slides closed the partition between the front and back of the car. "You okay?" she asks.

"I feel…odd," he says. "Weak. I do not care for this at all."

"It'll be okay," she says, and it feels weird to be reassuring him. "All we need to do is get you enough clothes to get your sizes, and Jarvis will take care of the rest. You can just catalogue it from the Tower."

"Jarvis?"

"He's the AI – artificial intelligence – that runs all of Stark's houses and Stark Tower. He's like an invisible butler. Phil says he can get you anything you need." Loki looks interested at that, and Darcy gives him a smile. "Just chill and let me do my thing – you've got a big couple of days coming up."

 


	6. Surrender Your Control to Someone that isn't a Douche but Likes You Anyway.

They just do the basics, and Darcy is not surprised that Loki automatically gravitates to the most expensive items in the stores. They're several thousand dollars into SHEILD's card when Loki yawns, then looks very surprised.

"It's a yawn. Just means you're tired. You'll get used to it." Then _she_ yawns. "Oh, man – that shit is contagious. _Mythbusters_ proved it."

Back in the car, they both slump back into the car's leather seats. "Stark Tower," Darcy tells the driver and yawns again. Loki shoots her a look, and she absolutely _does not_ find his drooping eyes and sleepy-toddler face slightly adorable.

"That's where we're living while you're here. Good security, easy to keep an eye on you. Easy to find if you get lost. Also super-awesome! Phil's getting it all fixed up. There will be someone to get us settled once we get there. Then you can take a nap, get some rest."

"I'm fine," he says, but even though he's trying to be condescending, it comes out merely petulant.

"Yeah, no," Darcy says. "You're human now. Us mortals have to eat and sleep to keep going."

He blinks slowly. "Waste of time," he says, but she doesn't bother to answer, because he's got the side of his head leaning against the window, and he's more-or-less asleep.

~*~

Upon arrival, they go through security and are introduced to Jarvis, who is just as cool as Darcy's heard. Jarvis explains their security clearances. Darcy's badge allows her to go pretty much anywhere in the Tower, save for the super-secret SHIELD/Stark Industries labs located in underground levels and any of Tony Stark's private workshops.

Loki's "Special Clearance" badge gives him access to the floor he's housed on (one level below Darcy's), some of the common areas, and the reception area on the ground level. Anywhere else he has to be accompanied by Darcy, Phil, or Pepper Potts.

Loki's floor contains guest quarters and furniture storage, so he can't get into too much trouble there. He pronounces his quarters "quaint" and waves Darcy off. She knows he's just dying to fall asleep, but resists rubbing it in.

Darcy's floor contains her suite and another suite that's occupied, but by whom she doesn't know. The rest of the floor is locked down behind a set of formidable steel doors that have a badge scanner, a palm scanner, and a retinal scanner to one side. Obviously somewhere not on the Darcy-approved visiting list.

Phil doesn't tell her who's in the other suite, but he _does_ tell her that all of her stuff has been moved in and unpacked. She sleepily wonders what the assigned minions thought of her four vibrators, but she doesn't really care – maybe they learned something.

Finally, Darcy lies starfished out on the hugest, fluffiest bed she's ever been in the same _building_ with. She really is beat. But, a thought. She peels herself off the bed, then spends about ten minutes in the kitchen. She comes back out feeling much better, and flops into her fluffy cloud o' sleep and crashes.

~*~

Darcy's awakened by loud knocking at her door. Crap, has Loki already gotten into some sort of crazy shit? She looks at the clock on her bedside table and sees that she's only been asleep for about an hour and a half.

"Chill," she yells in the direction of the door. "I'm coming, okay?" She pulls on her glasses and straightens her clothes and hair as she goes. She opens the door and is pushed back inside by a really pissed-off-looking guy wearing what look like Army pants and a black tee shirt.

"Where is he?" Pissed-off guy says, pushing her aside to stick his head into her bathroom, then kitchen, then bedroom, before slamming back into the living room to loom and stare. "Where is he?" he growls, low and dangerous.

And, whoa. _Hel-lo_ arousal response. Freaking hot. Medium height, medium build – except for shoulders that make her want to strip down and go all romance-novel-cover-take-me-now-you-stallion – and eyes that look like ice and fire at the same time. Awesomely hot, but obviously nuts.

Then he grabs her by the shoulders and actually _shakes_ her, and no. Oh, no. A bucket of no. She knows her Taser's not at hand, so she goes with Plan B and kicks him square in the balls. He pushes her as he goes down, and she winds up on her ass on the floor next to him where he's curled in a ball and making little chipmunk noises. She scuttles away, finds her purse, gets out her Taser and brandishes it at him. Which he can't see because his eyes are squinched shut and tears are leaking out of the corners.

"I will totally Tase you, asshole," she yells. "Jarvis, call Security! There's a crazy person in my suite!"

"Ms. Lewis, might I introduce you to Agent Barton? He's the man currently writhing in pain on your floor. He is also the Avenger known as 'Hawkeye'." She wouldn't bet on it, but she thinks Jarvis sounds faintly amused. "Agent Coulson, Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts are on their way to you. They should arrive within two-point-four minutes."

Darcy looks down at the man on the floor, who has at least stopped making squeaky noises, but his eyes are still tightly closed, and he still – of course – has both hands between his legs, much too late to protect himself.

"Um, Agent?" Darcy says hesitantly. "Sorry about that whole kicking in the nuts thing, but I thought you were a crazy person. I would have Tased you, but my bag was too far away, so I went with Plan B, and I hope I haven't, you know, made it so you can't reproduce or whatever, if that was even on your to-do list anyway. Oh, Phil, thank god!"

She moves toward Phil, but stops when he grabs her arm. "Taser, Darcy."

"Oh, sorry!" Darcy hands him the Taser she's still holding. She certainly wouldn't hug Phil or anything, but she does move half a step behind his shoulder, putting him between her and the writhing agent on the floor. Phil starts to say something, but two more people come barreling into the room. One, a tall red-haired lady, stops and claps her hand over her mouth, and the other – Tony freakin' Stark – falls back against the doorframe. He covers his face with his hands and _howls_ with laughter. He cackles so hard that he just slides down until he's cross-legged on the floor laughing and hiccupping.

He looks up at Darcy. "I don't know who you are," he says. "But I want to buy you a present – maybe an ice-cream shop or a Ferrari? Please tell me you Tased Hawk in the balls. Please, oh please tell me that?"

"Sorry," she says. "I couldn't reach my Taser, so I kicked him."

"Oh, fuck," Stark says, wiping tears from his eyes. "I'm going to buy a pro football team just so you can be the punter."

"Dying here," the man on the floor moans, and the red-haired lady looks back and forth between him and Darcy.

"Pepper Potts," she says, holding out her hand to Darcy to shake. "Tony-wrangler."

"Darcy Lewis," Darcy says, shaking Pepper's hand. "Loki-wrangler."

"Where is that son-of-a-bitch?" groans the guy on the floor – Barton – trying to crawl toward the door, which makes Tony start laughing again. Tony stands up and he and Phil manhandle Barton onto the couch. Pepper sits next to him and strokes his hair soothingly. Darcy dashes into the kitchen and comes back with a flexible ice-pack that she hands to Pepper, who passes it to Barton, who puts it where he needs it, whining and hissing as he settles it into place.

"Let's all just calm down and take a seat," Phil says, settling himself on the armchair. Darcy just sinks down to sit on the floor, and Stark sits down beside her and places his head on her shoulder, staring up at her adoringly. She shoves him off.

"So," Phil says. "Darcy?"

Darcy blows her hair out of her face. "He charged in here, started ransacking the place, yelled at me, then grabbed me and shook me. So I kicked him in the balls."

"An unusually succinct report, Ms. Lewis," Phil says.

"Yeah, well," Darcy replies, "He woke me up from a nap; I'm a little off my game."

Phil leans down and turns his head sideways. "Agent Barton?"

Barton groans, but this time it's in a lower register than before. "Kill…Loki. Thought he was here. Where is he? Son-of-a-bitch."

"Another succinct report," Tony says. "So, Darcy and Loki have settled in, and you might have been better off sending Chickadee here to Indonesia with Catwoman, eh Phil?"

Phil straightens back up. "Agent Barton, you are expressly forbidden to kill Loki during the next two weeks. You don't have to be friends with him, but there will be no murder, manslaughter or maiming. Clear?"

"Fine," Barton says sulkily. "No killing the son-of-a-bitch."

Phil shakes his head and rolls his eyes. "And don't you owe Ms. Lewis an apology?"

Barton's head is still on his knees, so when he turns his head, his face and Darcy's are on a level. "Sorry about the shaking," he says, and Darcy can see little crinkles of humor at the corners of his still-damp eyes.

She grins at him. "Accepted. What about the yelling and the ransacking?"

He sort-of returns the grin, though it turns into a grimace of pain. "Not sorry."

"Well, I'm not all that sorry about your balls then, either." She musses his hair a bit, then levers herself to her feet. She comes back with a six-pack of Coke and a fresh icepack for Barton.

"Mr. Stark, Ms. Lewis," Phil says. "I believe we have a few more people who need to know what's going on so we don't have a repeat of reactions similar to that of Agent Barton. Jarvis, would you ask Dr. Banner and Captain Rogers to join us?"

"Of course, Agent Coulson," Jarvis replies. After a momentary pause he says, "Dr. Banner will arrive in approximately five minutes, Captain Rogers in four-point-six."

"Thank you, Jarvis." Phil looks at the rest of the people in the room in turn. "Let's just wait for the others and go through the whole story once."

Darcy realizes that she's still in her slept-in work clothes and excuses herself to change. By the time she's back, in jeans and a sweater, two new men are standing by the door. They look up and she gives them a little wave. She's introduced, and holy freakin' moley Captain America and the Hulk are in her room! Sure, Captain America is wearing jeans and a tee shirt, and he's all, 'Call me Steve' with the toothpaste smile and dorky, dorky haircut. And the Hulk is a nerdy little scientist-dude named Bruce who has that disoriented look like Jane gets when she's dragged out of some massively important thingy on her various monitors.

"Good," Phil starts. "We're all here. Mr. Stark, would you like to explain? Succinctly, if you please."

Tony props himself casually against the wall, and Darcy just knows this is going to be a major diva moment. She and Pepper exchange an eyeroll.

"Loki," Tony says grandly, "is in the house."

"Drama queen," Barton mutters from the couch.

Tony normals-up and explains everything to bring the others up to speed. Bruce breaks in, "Where are Natasha and Thor?"

Phil smiles tightly. "Indonesia and Asgard, respectively."

"Yeah," Banner says. "I can see the logic in that. Natasha would have killed him before he took a deep breath. What about Thor?"

Darcy crosses her arms over her chest. "Who needs 'why can't you be like your brother?' hanging over their head? He and Jane went to visit the in-laws."

Steve gives her a small smile. "Good thinking, Ms. Lewis. However," he turns to Tony, "why are we harboring a war criminal?"

This time, Pepper cuts in. "He was exiled to Earth. _Only_ Earth. With all of his magic intact. How long do you think it would be before he got bored and found something to amuse himself at the peril of _us_? Darcy's challenge could be the only thing standing between us and…"

"Us and a pissed-off trickster god," Banner says. "By the way, just out of curiosity, why is Clint on the couch in the fetal position?"

Tony gestured to Darcy. "He startled our girl here while he was on the warpath, and she pretty much rang his bell. Or, in this case, his bells."

Banner and Steve both flinch back a little.

"Um, Ms. Lewis?" Phil says. "A question: why didn't you just use magic to stop Agent Barton?"

"Mag-what?" Tony says.

Phil sighs. "When Ms. Lewis tricked Loki into becoming mortal for two weeks, he unexpectedly passed his magic on to her in order to complicate things."

"I was in love with you before," Tony says, making cow-eyes at Darcy. "But you're magic? Now I want to marry you and make magic babies!"

"Shut up, Tony!" Darcy and Pepper say together.

"Anyway," Darcy says. "The magic is all taken care of. I put it in the freezer."

"You put it in the freezer," Phil deadpans.

"Now you have a magic freezer?" Barton says.

"Look," Darcy says, perching on the arm of the sofa. "You know how financial people say that when you use your credit cards too much you should freeze them in a block of ice? So you have to really want to buy the whatever-it-is that you want bad enough to thaw them out? Well, I froze the magic. It's out of play. That should piss Loki right off."

"Wait, go back," Tony says. "How the hell do you freeze magic? How can you do that?"

Darcy rolls her eyes. "Well, it's easy if _you're_ magic. I just rolled it all up into a ball, stuck it into one of those big Gladware doohickeys, filled it up with water and stuck it in the freezer. Ta-da!" She spreads her hands in a "dig me" gesture.

"So," Phil says. "We've got a mortal Loki, and two weeks to get him to…what was the exact wording, Ms. Lewis?"

"'Gain knowledge and humility and respect for those he has wronged'," Darcy intones. "Like when Thor had to prove that he was worthy to be able to pick up Mewmew again."

Tony jumps. "But didn't Thor have to _die_ for that to happen?"

"Believe me," Darcy says. "For Loki, this is way, way worse."


	7. Apologize, but don't Expect Forgiveness.

Darcy stops by to get Loki the next morning on her way downstairs. He's looking sharp in a dark jeans/boots/sweater/leather blazer combo, and Darcy's sure that if she wasn't dressed for work in one of her SHIELD-financed outfits, she'd feel like a slob next to him. He's got that effortless elegance and regal bearing – duh, god – thing going. It's Stark-like, really. She has a feeling it's going to really work her nerves before the two weeks are up.

"Come on," she says. "We'll grab breakfast on the way."

"And what are we doing today?" he says, obviously refreshed and assholish from a long sleep.

"We've got a couple of errands to run, then we're going to SHIELD, where we will check in with Phil and then you will meet Bruce Banner, aka the Hulk, aka the guy who seriously kicked your ass at the Battle of Midtown." Darcy is so happy she's scheduled Dr. Banner first: a little scoop of humility for Loki.

"Welcome to step four: apologize to, but don't expect forgiveness from, those you've been a douche to," Darcy says. "I don't know if you have a whole lot to apologize to Dr. Banner for, but I figured he could sympathize with the whole I've-killed-a-bunch-of-people-when-I-was-a-dick scenario. Of course, with him, he doesn't do it on purpose, but he's a mild-mannered dude and he probably won't want to kill you on sight."

Loki rolls his eyes at her. "You realize that this entire process has been unbearably boring so far, yes? Perhaps after our moment of empathy with Dr. Banner, you can whisk us away to somewhere much more interesting, perhaps a cornfield in Iowa?"

"Temp-ting," Darcy sing-songs, "but, no. This isn't spring break for you. We're trying to get you back in mom and dad's good graces before you get bored and start fucking up my planet for shits and giggles."

"I don't understand 'shits and giggles'," he says.

"Look it up," she snaps, pulling him into Starbucks, where he discovers a deep and abiding passion for the wonders that are lattes and scones. Darcy can't be very pissed at him when he has foamed milk and sugar on his upper lip.

Loki is more fun when he's caffeinated and sugared-up. Really, everyone is, right? They grab a cab and take a short ride to her favorite salon. It is a moral imperative that the douche-hair is fixed.

~*~

"And it's the lovely Miss Darcy Lewis!" The young woman at the front desk looks like a 40s pin-up girl, with new-penny-red hair styled in a complicated up-do with curled-under bangs hanging straight across her brow. She has on vibrant red lipstick that should clash with her hair but doesn't, and is wearing sailor-style dress with a crinoline that makes the skirt float out when she twirls Darcy in a hug.

"Liddy!" Darcy cries, hugging back. And, wow, she has totally got to introduce Liddy to Captain America! Well, once she knows him well enough to try hooking him up and hee! she might be helping Captain America hook up. God, she can barely breathe she's so excited.

"Okay, pretty girl," Liddy says, breaking away from Darcy. "Who's your pretty boy?"

Darcy turns back to Loki, who is leaning casually against the counter with small smirk on his face. "Liddy, this is Leo, but he goes by Loki. Loki, this is the fabulous Liddy Aston."

And damned if Loki doesn't take Liddy's hand and drop a kiss onto her knuckles, quietly saying, "my pleasure." Smooth. Darcy had expected him to be an arrogant dick, but she guesses that Charming Loki has come out to play.

Liddy squeaks, then whirls toward the back of the salon. Darcy arches an eyebrow at Loki, and he arches one right back. "Well played," she says. "Well played."

Liddy returns and they are whisked into the depths of the salon.

"Jesse, his douche-hair has to go." Darcy's practically melting under a truly outstanding head and neck massage from her stylist, while Loki's hair is being critically eyed-up by his.

"Thank you, Darcy," Loki says drily. To his stylist he says, "Apparently, my _douche-hair_ has to go."

And go it does. While Darcy gets a trim and her highlights brightened, Loki's douche-hair turns into…amazing. The stylist trims Loki's hair up to the back of his neck, but leaves some length at the top. Loki's hair is _curly_! Like, curls that must have been ringlets when he was a baby, a million and six years ago.

But the curls are loose, still pushed back from his high forehead but not slicked. The stylist has lightened it to a chestnut brown, and Loki doesn't look quite so deathly pale with the warmer color against his skin. If Darcy didn't know him, she'd probably have given him a little of the old check-out-my-rack-and-ask-for-my-digits action. He looks nothing like Douche-Loki, right down to the way he thanks the stylist as he stands.

Back on the street, Darcy hooks her arm through Loki's. "We look hot," she says to him, close in like it's a secret.

"Ms. Lewis," he says. "I must confess: I had douche-hair."

"Stick with me, kid," she says. "I won't steer you wrong."

They pass by a number of storefronts, and Loki asks her questions about some of the signs. It gets rather funny after a while, and pretty soon Darcy thinks she might _literally_ bust a gut laughing.

"Why are so many things named after royalty? White Castle, Burger King, Dairy Queen, and why are they all food-related?"

"Why are people walking around pulling animals on cords and then collecting their excrement?"

"Who is Howard Johnson?"

And the best one – in front of a salon/spa:

"What is a Vajazzle?"

Darcy can't breathe. Her lungs are exploding. She's going to actually die of hilarity. "Look…it…up," she wheezes out, slumping against the wall of the building.

He does, and then nearly drops the phone.

~*~

At SHEILD, everyone stares at them. Everyone from the door guards to the receptionist, to the people in the cubicles they pass, some of whom pop up behind the short walls like gophers, trying to get a better look. Loki doesn't look at any of them, his haughtiness back in place. Even without him looking directly at any of them, a couple of the more delicate agents wilt away.

Darcy passes her own desk and goes to Coulson's door. It's open, but she knocks quietly against the frame. "Bossman?"

"Come in, Ms. Lewis, Loki," Phil says mildly, waving them to his visitors' chairs. He doesn't react at all to the changes in Loki's looks. "What do you have planned for today?"

"Well," she says, "I thought we'd start with meeting Dr. Banner, then head back to the Tower to explore a bit. Is that acceptable to you?" she gives him a sly grin. "Or would you like to handle it yourself?"

"I have full faith in your abilities, Ms. Lewis. Carry on." Phil looks down at his papers – his signal for 'meeting over, go away' - so Darcy gets up and leads Loki out.

Back in the outer office, she turns to face Loki. "Before this is all over," she says firmly, "you _will_ speak to Agent Coulson. I don't care what you say and I don't care what he says back, but he's one of the people you really need to apologize to." Loki simply nods.

"Ms. Lewis," Phil says from where he's standing in his doorway. Freakin' ninja.

"Yes, sir?"

"Dr. Banner is working out of his lab at the Tower today." He walks back into his office.

Darcy gestures toward the outer door. "Well, come on, Leo. Let's head back home, then."

~*~

Loki pulls a face at the name, but he doesn't follow her out. Instead, he walks back through Coulson's open door.

"Ms. Lewis seems to believe that you owe me an apology," Coulson says, looking up from the papers he's reading.

Loki looks at Coulson gravely. "We both know that isn't necessary," he says.

Coulson nods. "Warriors at war."

"Indeed," Loki says. Coulson stands and looks at Loki across his desk. After sizing each other up for a moment, they shake hands.

Nodding once, Loki steps back into the outer office, where Darcy is just coming back through the door. "Oh, there you are. Come on, let's go.


	8. Fruit Ninja

"Jarvis?" Darcy says as soon they're in the Tower's elevator.

"Yes, Ms. Lewis," the AI replies.

"What's a hungry girl do about finding some snacks around here?" Loki rolls his eyes at her. "Okay," she adds. "A hungry girl and a recovering douche?" Loki rolls his eyes harder.

When Jarvis answers, Darcy would swear he sounds amused at her antics. "Ms. Lewis, Prince Loki, there is a communal kitchen on floor seventy-two that is fully stocked. If there is anything you'd like added to the grocery list, you have only to ask."

Darcy smiles. "Thank you, Jarvis," she says. "Floor seventy-two it is!"

The kitchen looks like a set from a Food Network show. It's huge and beautiful, and she can't wait to sneak in one morning and mess it all up making waffles or muffins or something. There's a huge bowl of fruit on the counter, and she waves Loki toward one of the bar stools. She digs around in the drawers and cabinets and comes up with assorted tools and a stack of small plates.

"Why so many plates?" Loki asks. He gestures between the two of them. "I'm nearly certain that you can count to two."'

Darcy pushes the bowl toward Loki, then picks up an apple and uses a gadget to core and slice the apple at the same time. She drops the apple wedges onto a plate, then picks up an orange and starts peeling it. "There's this thing: as soon as someone starts cutting up or peeling fruit, other people – who are too lazy to do it themselves – will show up to eat it."

As if on cue, Tony sticks his head around the door. "Oranges?" he says.

"Sure," Darcy says, waving him over. "Want some?"

He reaches for the orange sections she's pulling off. "Then peel it yourself," she says.

"I don't want it bad enough to peel it," he says.

Darcy pushes a plate full of sections over to him and winks at Loki. "Told you," she says.

Just then, Steve walks in. "Apples?" Darcy pushes him a plate.

Apparently Banner can smell a strawberry a mile away, and so can Pepper, but mainly because she'd deathly allergic. She grabs a kiwi and holds it out imploringly to Darcy. "Help? I always mangle them."

Darcy takes the fruit. "The reason you mangle them is because you try to peel them." She slices the kiwi in half and hands one half and a spoon to Pepper before demonstrating how to scoop out the fruit leaving the peel behind.

"That's brilliant!" Steve says, and pretty soon everyone has a kiwi half and a spoon.

Through it all, Loki's been sitting on his barstool, a little apart from the others, dutifully peeling tangerines. He looks a little overwhelmed to be surrounded by people who pretty much hate him but aren't actively trying to kill him.

Darcy watches as Steve, who of course can't stand to see someone left out, shoves a kiwi half and spoon at Loki with a casual, "You gotta try this!"

Loki takes it and tries it, nodding at Steve.

So, Darcy's feeling good, feeling loose. She's got everyone in the same room and they're all laughing and joking and eating and sharing and practically kum-by-yah-ing when Clint walks in.

"Tell me there's pineapple," he says. Darcy knows the exact second Clint sees Loki, because the party atmosphere stumbles just a little. Darcy looks in the fridge, and thank god there's a pineapple in there so she can pull it out and attack it with her knife like a samurai. Still, she catches herself almost saying something about Natasha and knives. She covers by picking up a piece of pineapple on her knife and holding it out to Clint.

Clint eats it, then picks up a pair of oranges and an apple, tossing them into the air to juggle them flawlessly. Once he's got the pattern going, he looks over at Loki. "Toss me a tangerine?"

Loki's mouth falls open, but he closes it just as fast. He picks up a tangerine, then tosses it to Clint so that it falls precisely into the juggling pattern. "Good throw, man," Clint says, and Darcy could just about kiss him. Just then, Tony chucks a kiwi into Clint's pattern, and all of the fruit comes tumbling down, the kiwi landing in Clint's hand. He takes a long look at it.

"No!" Darcy yells. "Clint Barton, if you start a food fight in here I will so go Fruit Ninja on your ass!"

Once the fruit is all sliced and everyone has a plateful, Tony chivvies them all into the living room for a movie. "We have people here who need to be exposed to _Real Genius_ ," he says. "I mean, you've all met me, and I'm a real genius, but this movie is essential."

Twenty minutes into the movie, Loki falls asleep. Darcy nudges Steve, who leans over far enough to catch the plate just about to fall from Loki's lax fingers. "Thank you," she mouths at him, and hopes he realizes it's not just about the plate.

Darcy gathers the rest of the plates and gets up. She gestures for Clint to follow her. He does, with a mystified look on his face.

"I owe you," she says to him, setting the dishes into the sink.

"For what?" Clint says, opening the dishwasher to load it.

Jarvis cuts in. "Please do not load the dishwasher, Agent Barton. The cleaning crew members are very specific about the order in which the dishes are placed."

Clint closes the dishwasher. "Um, okay," he says slowly. He leans against the counter and raises an eyebrow at Darcy.

"You could have really harshed the fruit party," she says. "And you didn't. That was pretty awesome of you."

Clint looks down and rubs the back of his neck. "I figured you might kick me in the balls again if I messed up your 'master plan'."

Darcy She can clearly hear the air quotes, but she touches his cheek lightly before pulling away. "You did a good thing."

He looks up but keeps the hand on the back of his neck, which does freakin' amazing things for his triceps. "So we're good, you and me? No more shaking, no more kicking?"

"Deal," Darcy says. "Friends?" She holds out her hand, her pinky finger crooked up.

"Do I really have to _pinky swear_?"

When she nods solemnly, he sighs and hooks his pinky into hers. "Friends."

~*~

"Dr. Banner."

Bruce is lost in thought, and he jumps when he hears his name. Loki has moved and is sitting on the far end of the couch, body turned to face Bruce. They're the only two left in the dim light from the television, still playing the DVD menu from the movie.

"Darcy tells me that part of my 'rehabilitation' includes apologizing to those I've wronged. I believe that, in our case, it is you who owe me one." Loki says.

"I..what?" Bruce says.

Loki smiles - a big, almost silly grin – and leans forward to place his elbows on his knees. "Darcy described our meeting as the Hulk 'kicking my ass' at Stark Tower. I must agree with her assessment."

Bruce leans forward, mimicking Loki's posture. "Want to know a secret?" Banner asks, a small smile curving his lips. "I remember very little of what happens when the Other Guy is in charge, but I vaguely remember kicking your ass, and I'm not sorry at all." He can't hold in the big smile that splits his face. "Puny god."

"Puny mortal right now," Loki says, delighted at Banner's reaction. "So let's not clash again, if I could be so bold as to request that favor. Know that I rue my actions of that day."

"I believe that we can call a truce," Bruce says. "But I can't speak for the Other Guy, of course."

"I admire your honesty, Dr. Banner. I shall endeavor to not incite…the Other Guy. Our last encounter was a painful reminder that even a god can be shown the error of his ways." Loki waits a second, and then holds out his hand.

After a brief hesitation, Bruce reaches out and solemnly shakes it.

 


	9. A Rose by any Other Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Titles are important.

"Jarvis?" Loki says, looking toward the ceiling, as the others tend to do when addressing the AI.

"Yes, Prince Loki, how may I assist you?" Jarvis' voice is bland, and Loki wonders if he's imagining that Jarvis sometimes expresses emotions.

"Where is Darcy?"

"She is in the kitchen, speaking with Agent Barton. Shall I notify her that you are asking after her, Prince Loki?" Jarvis says.

"No, thank you. Jarvis, may I ask a question?" Loki says, unsure as to what he should and should not ask of a person who is a computer that isn't really either a person or a computer that runs a number of buildings.

Jarvis answers with a simple "Yes."

"Why do you address me as 'Prince'?" Loki is quite interested in the response.

"It is your correct honorific, is it not? Would you rather be addressed a different way?"

Loki thinks on it a moment. In its most general terms, 'prince' denotes the son of a king, and does he consider himself a son to Odin, and therefore a prince? Or does he consider himself a son of Laufey, thus also a prince? Does he have rights to the title? Should he be addressed by his assumed mortal name? Does an honorific assume honor, and can he be said to still have that? Things were simpler when he was a god and could arrogantly assume any title of his choice.

He answers the AI. "I will think on it, but for now that honorific will do. Thank you, Jarvis. Should Darcy ask after me, please tell her I have gone to my rooms."

"Very well, sir," Jarvis says, and he helpfully lights the way to the elevators for Loki.

~*~

Loki is beginning to think that he and Jarvis are becoming some odd type of…acquaintances. Or maybe Jarvis is acting as some sort of human-to-AI-to-god translator or buffer.

"Jarvis, may I ask Tony Stark's location?"

"Sir is located in his sub-basement workshop."

Loki thinks on the wording. "He has more than one?"

"Sir has seven workshops in Stark Tower, three at SHEILD Headquarters, two underneath the building next door and one in the Malibu house. There is one in the Fifth Avenue house, but he does not use it."

Loki frowns. "Why doesn't he use that one?"

Jarvis hesitates, as if checking something. "I do not presume to know Sir's thinking, but that one was Howard Stark's workshop."

"Ah," Loki says. As Darcy would probably say, 'daddy issues', something with which Loki has more than a passing acquaintance. "Would you ask Mr. Stark if he would speak with me a moment?"

After a pause, Jarvis says, "Please follow the illuminated path to the elevators, and I will guide you from there. Sir has allowed you temporary access to sub-level five. I will activate the doors for you."

"I thank you," Loki says, placing his hand to his chest and tipping his head forward slightly.

"My pleasure, Prince Loki."


	10. Make Amends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony wants storytime.

Jarvis' lighted path takes him to a hallway of large windows that looks into a room full of…things Loki does not recognize. In the back he can see automobiles and other conveyances, mostly painted in bright colors. Many of them look as if they are moving quickly even while standing still.

Loud noise is penetrating the windows, and Loki can feel the lowest notes in his chest and stomach. When the door slides open, the noise peaks and then stops suddenly. It makes Loki rock forward a small step, as though something pushing him back has suddenly disappeared.

Stark is sitting on a bench using something that propels a concentrated flame to cohere what seems to be two types of metal. Looking sideways at the metal, Loki can see the rough form of what seems to be one boot of the Iron Man suit. Stark turns off the flame and flips up the face-covering he's wearing.

"Yo, puny mortal, what can I do for you today?" Stark says, his usual wry smile in place.

"What _is_ that?" Loki says, his curiosity overcoming his reticence.

"Standard semi-auto _MIG_ welder with consumable wire electrode and filler, constant AC, continuously fed, but I'm pretty sure that means nothing to you." Stark takes off the face-shield and puts down the flame-producing device, turning to fully face Loki. "How goes being a real boy?"

"It is…confusing," Loki says carefully. "Quite limiting, actually."

Stark tilts his head, as if considering that. "Must be," he says. "I guess in the bad old days if you wanted to put two metals together, you'd just point a magic finger at it and be done. Or just magic it up the way you wanted it in the first place."

"You misunderstand," Loki says. "Back ho…back in Asgard, my magic was unnecessary for the most part, generally used as a tool or weapon. I did not need to 'magic-up' much of anything."

"Hmmm," Stark says. "I guess I've never really thought about day-to-day Asgard-iness. What do you do for fun?"

This is not the way Loki imagined this conversation going, but Stark is interesting, his mind quick to flit from topic to topic and make connections between the things that interest him and dismissing the rest.

"Many hunt and fight and train – those like Thor and the Lady Sif and the Warriors Three. Many follow them and aspire to their same goals: killing and feasting and being feted as befits heroes of Asgard. Some use the Bifrost to travel to other realms to explore or to be worshipped as gods – your Norse mythology, for example." Loki keeps his voice level, though he can feel his hands wanting to clench into fists.

Stark nods. "Meathead warrior culture. Popular here, too. But I was more interested in what _you_ did."

"My pursuits were of a more – scholarly – bent." Loki sweeps a hand toward himself. "I am not particularly built for war, giant heritage aside. You could say that I studied statecraft? Treachery? Manipulation? Those and magic, of course."

"Wait, wait," Tony says, suddenly sitting up straighter. "Giant heritage? You're a _giant_? This I have to hear. Sit down, seriously. I'll have Jarvis do lunch. What are you in the mood for? Sushi? Burgers? Tacos? Albanian? I don't know what Albanian food is, but J will find out. This is New York; someone will deliver Albanian."

"This is not why I came here, Mr. Stark," Loki says a bit stiffly. "I am to ap…"

"Yeah, yeah, apologize, I know. I've been exposed to a few versions of the 12 steps in my time. And because of that, I know that the next step is 'make amends'. Well, this is my amends. I want stories, sagas, eddas, whatever you got. Go…" he makes shooing motions to a nearby sofa. "Sit, make yourself comfortable." He looks up. "Jarvis, look up Albanian food; let's get some. And tacos. And sushi. And pizza." He looks over at Loki. "What're you? A triple-cheese man? Super-Supreme? Well, that'd make sense for a god. Whatever, J, gets us some food." Stark rolls his chair toward the couch. "Dude, sit. I need this like a fat kid needs cake."

~*~

"Tony," Darcy says through a mouthful of food. "What is this? It's good." She's hauling a couple of big bags, including the one she's eating out of. Behind her, Steve and Clint are carrying even more bags, and Steve has a case of soda and a case of beer balanced on his shoulder with one hand.

"Albanian," Tony says. "Get all that shit in here. It's storytime!"

"We have storytime? Like at the library?" Clint says.

"Like you've ever been to a library, Barton," Tony says. "Who's got the sushi?"

Clint's steps falter a bit when he sees Loki, but he catches himself. He does, however, manage to keep Darcy between them as he puts his bags on the table.

"Tastes like Greek," Darcy says, digging through the various boxes. "Stuffed grape leaves. And that's eggplant, I think." She pops a finger-full in her mouth. "Yep, eggplant." She starts shoveling a little of everything onto plates and passing them around.

"Taco. Taco. Taco. Gimme taco," Tony says, making grabby hands toward the Mexican portion of their feast. "Where's the pizza? Jarvis, where's my pizza."

"Just admitted at the gate, sir. Would you like to send someone to collect it?"

Tony snaps his fingers. "You, Dummy – go get the pizza. Hey, Barton, gimme a twenty. The delivery guys always freak out when the bots tip them. We can watch the vid later."

Clint pulls out his wallet and opens it, and Dummy's pinchers snatch a twenty out as he rolls by. "Your bots have about as much manners as you," Clint grumbles.

Loki sits, blinking, on the edge of it all. As the God of Chaos, this shouldn't really be all that surprising, but it is. Mortals are mercurial, reactive, unpredictable, and truly, truly strange. This really does explain quite a bit about his failure to enslave them. Their essential random-ness makes them…slippery.

"Loki, my man," Stark says, using a dubiously-clean bench cloth to wipe hot sauce off his chin. "Eat up. Cap, pass the man some sushi."

Captain Rogers opens a box and wrinkles his nose at the contents. "I would call it "bait', personally, but you're welcome to it." He passes it to Loki.

It's uncooked fish, Loki sees. Like the **rolmops served at** Vlaggetjesdag. He takes a piece and eats it, savoring the fresh, clean flavor. "This is from your Scandinavian cuisine?" he asks no one in particular.

"Japanese, actually," Clint says.

"Island nation in east Asia: major economic power,world's third-largest economy, fourth-largest exporter, fourth-largest importer, sixth largest military budget, currently suffering a population decline, suicide is the leading cause of death for people under 30," Darcy rattles off before taking a bite of the eggplant dish in one hand, followed by a bite of the sushi in the other. She swallows. "Uh, hello…poli sci degree. Not just a pretty face and a great rack over here."

"Though the rack is pretty sweet." Tony leers before shoving the last of his taco into his mouth.

"Okay, what's up with storytime?" Clint says. "We don't have to hear about your romantic exploits or that time Rhodey and you got arrested in Mongolia trying to find barbeque, right?"

Tony stares at him. "Who told you that story?" he demands.

Clint rolls his eyes. "You did, like, the last eight times you got drunk. I practically know it word-by-word, except I can't pronounce some of the cops' names."

Darcy wipes her hands and drains her beer. "So what's the what?"

"Antlers here," he gestures toward Loki, "has to tell me some of _his_ exploits as part of his journey to redemption from being a douche."

Clint laughs out loud at that. "Takes one to know one."

"And I've been reliably informed that it's a _helm_ , not an antler hat." Darcy pipes up.

"Thank you, Darcy," Loki says, staring at her down his nose. He supposes the haughtiness is ruined by the fact that he's wearing jeans and a sweater and that he has grains of rice in his lap, but he's strangely okay with it. "What sort of story would you like, Mr. Stark?"

"A dirty one!" Tony says, his face lighting up. Darcy looks just as interested, Agent Barton is attempting to seem unaffected, and Captain Rogers' face goes very red. Loki considers it for a moment.

"In my youth," he starts. "I was known to be a little mischievous now and again. I shall pay heed to Captain Rogers' sensibilities and instead tell you a story…"

He continued on, telling them the story of Thor losing Mjolnir and Loki discovering the location of the mighty hammer. The conditions of return included bringing a wife to the thief, and Loki managed to convince Thor to dress in bridal gowns, complete with golden wig, to secure the hammer. He, himself, was disguised as Thor's maid-in-waiting.

As the story goes on, Loki finds that he, too, is laughing at the memories, feeling freer and happier than in quite a while. It has been a long time since he's gathered with others to tell stories and laugh without having half his mind on his next intrigue.

"I know Thor is a super hotass as man," Darcy says between whoops of laughter, "but what did he look like as a woman?"

"I believe I can attest that he was the ugliest woman I have ever seen," Loki says, his hand over his heart. "Yet I was as lovely as a spring flower."

Clint looks at him skeptically. "Hmmm…not seeing you in women's clothes as a spring flower."

Loki smiles and winks. "Oh, no, Agent Barton, I wasn't _dressed_ as a woman; I _was_ a woman. I am also known as Loki Shapeshifter and am – or was – able to take other forms at will. And I assure you that I am quite a fetching lady."

Tony sits back and squints at Loki. "You know, Barton, I bet girl-Loki would lead you around by the ba…" he cut his eyes to Steve. "nose."

"Hey!" Clint says, but not angrily.

"Ohmygod," Darcy says. "I can totally see it! I would absolutely make out with girl-Loki in a bar with a few tequilas in me."

"Hey," Stark says, smiling ferally at Darcy. "Both sides of the streets, huh? I'd probably pay good money for video of you making out with girl-Loki in a bar with a few tequilas in you."

Stark and Barton click their beer cans together, and Darcy says, "Damn right you would!"

Loki turns toward Darcy. "'Both sides of the street'," he says. "I do not know that reference."

"Goes both ways," Clint says. "AC/DC. Plays for both teams. Bisexual. Sexually attracted to both men and women."

"Oh." Loki frowns a little. "But isn't everyone? Why limit one's options?"

"Ha!" Darcy says, "See, Tony? Your cute little mancrush on Steve is fine."

Loki watches as Stark's face turns as red as Captain Rogers'. "I do not have a _mancrush_ on Cap," Tony says. "I have a mancrush on that dude who plays Sherlock Holmes on the BBC!"

Darcy pulls some cheese off a spare piece of pizza and eats it. "That's a celebricrush – totally different. Celebricrush is like on a famous person. A mancrush is much closer to home. Like I now have a girlcrush on Pepper, and celebricrushes on Drew Barrymore and that dude who plays Sherlock Holmes on the BBC. Clint, who's your mancrush?"

"I have no mancrush," Barton insists, but Loki's pretty sure he can see a dull flush climbing his neck. "But I do have a celebricrush on that dude who plays Sherlock Holmes on the BBC. Doesn't everybody?"

"Steve?" Tony says, turning to Rogers.

"I've never even seen that dude who plays Sherlock Holmes on the BBC!" Steve has his hand over his face.

"Upstairs!" Tony shouts. "Jarvis! Sherlock Season One in the green living room. Darce, Barton, bring the food."

Loki finds himself carried along on a tide of enthusiasm up to the room with the largest television. Six hours later he's exhausted, his stomach hurts from laughing, and he has a bit of a celebricrush on that dude who plays Sherlock Holmes on the BBC. Captain Rogers does, too. He won't admit it, but Loki can tell.


	11. Out and About

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki goes out for a walk.

"Jarvis?" Loki says. "Is Darcy awake?" "She is not, Prince Loki," Jarvis says. "Shall I wake her?"

Loki thinks about it. Truth be told, he's growing weary of constantly being supervised. "No," he says to Jarvis. "If she asks for me, let her know I've gone for a walk."

"Very well, Prince Loki."

Early spring in the city is…nice. The day is cool and cloudy, so Loki's pleased to have the scarf he'd stuffed into his jacket pocket. One of the irritants of not having his magic is that he can't conjure whatever he needs whenever he needs it. There are so many annoying details when you're mortal.

Loki's not used to so many people so close to him. Loki doesn't generally deal with crowds, unless those crowds are kneeling before him. It's not boasting to say that he is the most powerful sorcerer born to the Nine Realms in millennium. He is invaluable in battle – his powers of projection alone can turn the tide of any engagement. As such, he only gets close enough to skirmishes to engage his powers, never close to the "real" fighting. This is something Thor and his friends never let go unremarked.

_Untouched and unblooded._

_A pup safe in the den while the wolves take the spoils._

_Clean hands casting from behind mighty warriors._

Of course, those same braggarts never complained when Loki's carefully constructed illusions made their numbers double and caused foes to turn and flee, or when he cast protection spells that let them jump into the fray and fight to their hearts' content without injury. Growing up, he'd been able to use his silver tongue to keep them out of trouble – or at least in less trouble – when their pranks went awry.

Loki realizes that he's pushing his way aggressively down the sidewalk, scowling at anyone in his way. He works his way to the edge of the morass and, pressing himself to the wall of a building, takes a deep breath. Spotting a coffee shop across the street, he wends his way to the crosswalk and moves with the crowd as the light changes.

He makes it into the shop and procures a latte, which is becoming a bit of an obsession. Darcy has let him in on the use of caffeine to keep this mortal body energized; tiredness is one of the side-effects of his humanity that he can't abide.

Loki makes his way to an outside table that gives him a vantage point for watching the unending stream of people going by.

"May I join you?"

The voice belongs to a young man, dark-skinned with his hair twisted into heavy locks around his face. The man is holding his own drink and gesturing to the empty seat at Loki's table.

"There are obviously other available seats," Loki says, automatically resisting the idea of company.

"But this seat seems to have potential," the man says, and he sprawls into the chair when Loki waves a hand imperiously.

"People-watching?" the man says. "This is the place for it."

"Sheep," Loki says. "Following one another, none knowing where the Judas goat leads."

"Ah," the man says, "but if the Judas goat is up front, where is "up front', do you think?"

Loki looks across the table, focusing closely on the other man for the first time. "You are…interesting," he says. "Why?"

The man drinks from his cup and smiles with even white teeth. "It's a curse," he says. "Most of the people in this city refuse to think. I refuse to stop. I'm Baron, by the way."

"A regal name," Loki says. "I'm Leo."

Baron grins again, and Loki sees a gleam in his eyes. Sexual interest. It's been a while since anyone has looked at him in quite that way.

"A king's name," Baron says. "And a predator's."

"You have no idea," Loki says, and gives the other man a sly grin.

Baron returns the smile. "Enlighten me."

Later, in bed in Baron's small apartment, sharing a post-coital joint, Baron grins again. "I consider myself enlightened." He sighs and relaxes even more into the covers.

"Rest," Loki says, and Baron falls easily into sleep. Loki quietly dresses and leaves. On the street, he orients himself on the easily-seen Stark Towers and sets off with a bit of a lighter step.

~*~

When he gets closer to the tower, the crowd of people changes shape. There's a cordon with lines of police officers, and Loki recognizes a clump of SHEILD agents right in the middle of it, headed by an agent Loki has met a couple of times. This particular agent…David? Davis?...has never shied away from Loki, and Darcy has referred to him as a "BAMF", which Urban Dictionary has told him means "Bad Ass Mother Fucker". Thankfully, the dictionary has also told him that "motherfucker" does not mean exactly what those words used together would imply. He also realizes that the group's attention is focused not on Stark Tower, but on the four-story building in its shadow. He recalls Jarvis telling him that this building contains two of Stark's labs, and the SHEILD presence tells him that those labs are probably less than safe in nature.

Loki approaches and reads the agent's nametag. "Agent Davis," he says quietly.

"Mr. Hill," the agent replies. "Perhaps you should retire to a safe distance. You're not needed here."

"Hmmmm," Loki says. He's considering stepping back when he hears a voice he recognizes.

"Agent Davis," Coulson says. "Ms. Lewis is indeed inside the building. She is being held as a hostage in the second-floor coffee shop with the bomber. We have a 96% certainty that he is alone and is not affiliated with any known terrorist organization."

"Sir," Davis says deferentially. "The NYPD has withdrawn their hostage negotiator; the bomber did not engage. They're waiting for their backup negotiator."

Coulson's eyes flick to Loki. "Mr. Hill," he says by way of greeting. "The Tower is locked down. I suggest you find somewhere out of the way to wait."

Loki stares at Coulson until the agent actually looks at him. "Have the Avengers been mobilized? Are any of them also inside the building? In the lower-level labs?"

Coulson gives Loki a long look, a slight frown the only thing betraying his reaction, as if he's wondering how Loki knows about the labs. "The Avengers cannot be mobilized. There are…volatile elements used in some of those labs that preclude that plan of action."

"And this person has Darcy." Loki's not asking.

"Yes," Coulson says, "along with seventeen others. Now that you have been duly informed, find somewhere out of the way to wait."

Loki does move away, but only far enough to be outside of the SHEILD group. He pushes down the anger that has been rising inside him since he heard Darcy's name. This is untenable. If his magic wasn't currently residing in _Darcy's freezer_ , he would simply stop the bomber's heart and finish this crisis now. But, no, Darcy had to refuse his gift and put herself into a situation that could have easily been avoided, or easily been concluded with a simple thought.

Loki reaches into his pocket and slips the lanyard for his SHEILD security badge around his neck. Working his way through the crowd, he approaches the knot of NYPD officers and steps up to the person obviously in charge.

"Leo Hill," he says, lifting his 'Special Clearance' badge. "SHEILD hostage negotiator. Your man had no luck?"

"We've got another guy coming in," the officer says defensively.

"I believe that this incident encompasses SHEILD property?" Loki knows that it does, but he's always found it more powerful to force his opponent to make his point for him.

The policeman steps back, raising his hands as if in surrender. "His name's William Case; 45; wife named Carla; no kids; engineer; laid off last November; wife's out of town visiting her sister in Jersey. He goes by "Will"; he shut our guy down when he called him "William". We have his cell number, but he refused to pick up for our guy."

Loki nods and holds out his hand. The policeman hands over a slip of paper with a phone number on it. Loki nods again and walks directly through the police cordon, despite the officer's shout of "hey!' There's a single police car inside the cordon, so Loki walks to it and settles himself cross-legged on the hood. He pulls out his cell phone and dials the number on the paper.

A man picks up. "I don't want to talk to anymore cops," he snarls.

"That's good," Loki says. "Because I'm not a cop. Is everyone safe there, Will?"

"Yes," the man says. "How do you know my name?"

Loki laughs. "Well, the police _are_ useful for a couple of things."

"You didn't call me the other name," Will says.

Loki hums a little. "I don't like my given name either. I changed it. The other was my father's name. I'm not like him." It's true. Loki isn't like _either_ of his fathers. He's neither Odinson nor Laufeyson. "You have every right to be yourself and not in the shadow of another."

"Agreed," Will says.

Loki cuts right to the point. "Why are you in there, Will?"

"I…it's…" Will sputters. "I didn't mean to. I chickened out like I always do. I can't…"

Loki can hear the agitation in Will's voice, and makes his own tone as soothing as possible. "No, Will. Changing your mind does not mean you are afraid."

There's a long silence, but Loki waits it out.

"They, upstairs," Will says, his voice forlorn. "They wouldn't help me and I can't…she's not coming home…I can't."

Loki thinks quickly. What's upstairs in that building, on one of the floors above the coffee shop? Loki focuses on the brass plaques on the outside of the building to read the small letters. Ah, fourth floor.

Loki softens his voice. "The bank?"

Will's voice hitches. "No third mortgage – they said the house wasn't worth enough. We've been in that house fifteen years. I can't lose it, not now. She won't come back if I do."

"Your wife?" Loki asks.

"My Carla. Prettiest girl in school. Don't know why she married me." Will's voice has gone quiet and he sounds devastated.

"Before she was your wife, she was your girlfriend?"

"Yeah." Will's voice is getting dangerously low, defeat coloring his tone. Loki knows that a defeated man is a man with nothing left to lose. And a man with explosives and nothing left to lose…

"Before she was your girlfriend…" Loki says, following a hunch, keeping at least two moves ahead in this most dangerous of games.

"Oh," Will says, stronger now, with a note of nostalgia in his voice. "We were friends since junior high. Best friends."

Loki hums again. "Is there a young woman in there with you? Dark hair, ridiculously red lipstick?"

"Yeah?" Will sounds interested, more engaged.

"I know her," Loki says. "Her name is Darcy. She's…she's my friend. Have you spoken with her? She talks quite a lot."

Will laughs at that. "She's funny. I bet she's a good friend."

"Ah," Loki says, keeping it casual. "She's annoying."

Will laughs again, and Loki can hear Darcy's unmistakable voice in the background. Loki decides to take a chance.

"Will?" he says. "Please send the others out. You can keep Darcy if you must."

"Why should I let them go?" Will's getting belligerent again, and Loki knows he must tread lightly.

"The others are just troublesome," he says. "You can get the same effect without having so many to keep up with, yes? Darcy will stay with you. She'll probably talk to you. Endlessly." Loki waits.

After an unnervingly long pause, Will answers. "Okay. Yeah, that's okay, I guess."

"Will you send them down to the lobby? Have them take the stairs?"

"Okay."

Loki mutes the phone and leans over, motioning a cop over to him. "Seventeen hostages are coming out via the lobby," Loki says. "Ms. Lewis is staying in. Go tell Agent Coulson. Also tell him to get the wife here. Go." He waves the policeman off. He sees a group of people gathering in the lobby.

"Will?" he says back into the phone. "May I send an officer to lead them out?"

"Okay," Will says, his voice hardening. "But no weapons, no snipers. Don't fuck with me."

"Of course," Loki murmurs. "Keep Darcy safe for me, okay?"

"You care about her," Will says, a little wonderingly.

Loki surprises himself by answering honestly, his thoughts of strategy leaving his head. "I…I do. Return her to me, Will?"

"Why should I? I gave you the others. Stop fucking with me, Leo!" Will yells. But Loki looks up and sees Coulson coming toward him with a teary woman in tow.

"I'm not, Will," Loki says. "I just want my friend back. Your best friend is here. She wasn't leaving you, just visiting."

"Bullshit!" Will screams, and the woman steps up beside the car Loki's sitting on. She leans her head against Loki's so she can speak into the phone.

"Oh, Will," she says in a soft voice. "I know about the house. It doesn't matter."

"That's not her," Will says, his voice breaking. "She's gone. She's left me."

The woman, Will's wife, Mrs. Case, takes the phone. "Billy-boy, come on outside; we'll work it out. Just like we do everything else: just you and me."

There's a pause, and Loki hates that he can only hear her side of the conversation.

Carla laughs, just a little. "You and me against the world, right?" she says. "Since Mrs. Roberts in the fourth grade. The meanest teacher in school, and you stood up to her for me."

Another pause, then Carla nods and hands the phone back to Loki. "Tell him how to come out," she says. "Don't let him get hurt, okay?"

"Ready, Will?" Loki says. "Let Darcy walk you out, and Carla and I will meet you. We won't let the police near you, I promise."

Loki looks up, and Coulson is just behind the police line. "When they're out," Coulson says, his mouth barely moving. "You and Mrs. Case meet them at the lobby door and walk him to the SUV directly behind us. I'll clear a corridor. All four of you get in. We don't know if he's wearing the bomb or carrying it, so be ready for anything."

Loki nods, and then speaks back into the phone. "Ready?" he asks. He nods, and then hangs up the phone.

He looks Coulson straight in the eyes. "Call off the archer."

Coulson nods, then makes a small gesture with one hand, and Loki knows that he's given Barton a 'back off' signal. Loki slides gracefully off the car and takes Carla's hand. "Ready?"

"I am," she says. Her voice is strong, and she grips Loki's hand tightly.

When they reach the building, Darcy steps out, leading a tall, ginger-haired man by the hand. The man is carrying a briefcase in his other hand. After they've moved a few feet clear of the building, Carla throws herself into Will's arms, and Loki is shocked when Darcy grabs him in a tight hug.

Both pairs end the embrace: Darcy cups Loki's cheek in one hand as she moves back, giving him an approving smile. Loki turns to Will and introduces himself. He and Will shake hands. "Is that…?" Loki says, gesturing toward the briefcase.

"Yeah," Will says sadly, and hands it over.

"Let's go," Carla says. "Stay close." Loki knows that she, too, has thought of sharpshooters.

They walk out together, and Loki carefully sets the case on the ground when they're halfway across the open area. He can see the looming figure of a bomb technician wearing a bulky suit, ready to come get it.

Loki leads them to the SUV as instructed.

On a balcony high in Stark Tower, his bow hanging at his side, Clint Barton watches.

~*~

"What the fuck were you thinking?" Fury yells. "Oh, wait, there's a better question: do you fucking think _at all_?"

Darcy, Loki, Coulson and Hill are seated in front of the Director's desk, but Fury is pacing behind it. "You could've gotten yourself and Ms. Lewis killed, as well as destroying a couple of Manhattan city blocks!"

Loki's about to answer when he's surprised by Coulson's soft voice. "Director?" he asks. "Do you recall another of Loki's names?"

Fury simply stares at him scowling. "What?"

Coulson shakes his head and the ghost of a smile touches his lips. "Loki Silvertongue."


	12. Urban Dictionary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you don't know the definition, look it up.

"You saved the lives of at least a hundred people today," Steve Rogers says, walking into the kitchen, where Loki and Darcy are eating ice cream.

"I guess," Loki says, frowning. Why is this important to Rogers? Loki really only acted to save one person – Darcy. Any other lives saved were simply incidental as far as he is concerned. However, it seems quite important to Rogers.

Rogers nods, as if to himself. "You killed a thousand innocent people last time you were here. Lives saved don't make up for lives lost," he says. "But it's a start."

"I…I understand," Loki says, but he really doesn't. There's no scale in his world, no equation of life and death that says when one coffer is emptied another fills.

"No, you don't," Steve says, "but one day you might."

After Steve leaves, Loki turns to Darcy. "That's really what he cares about, dead strangers?"

Darcy licks her spoon. "He cares about…right and wrong, I guess. There aren't a lot of shades of gray in his life."

"The others aren't like that," Loki says. "Stark, Barton, the others – they know that…"

"Collateral damage?" Darcy says.

Loki nods. "Collateral damage – is a cost of battle. The Captain would prefer a bloodless war, if such a thing existed. So, how can my amends to him be something so unrealistic?"

"That's what you did that hurt him the most," Darcy says kindly. "That and separate the team."

Loki laughs. "They weren't even a team yet, and divide-and-conquer is a time-tested battle tactic."

"Well, I know that, and _you_ know that. Hell, even Cap knows that, but he's all rah-rah-team and protect-and-serve. He can't help it," Darcy explains.

Loki says, "Then he dooms himself to a life of disappointment."

Darcy smiles sadly. "Yeah, so it's our job to help him find perspective or something. Cheer him up. Anyway, I have to run up stairs to the bathroom, so I'll be back in a sec."

Loki raises an eyebrow. "There are several bathrooms on this level."

"Yeah, I know," Darcy says, but she darts toward the elevators anyway. There's no way in hell she's going to explain to Loki that she needs to go change her tampon. Some things are just sacrosanct.

~*~

Loki's toying with his spoon in the melted ice cream at the bottom of his bowl when Captain Rogers comes back in. "Where's Miss Lewis?" he asks.

Loki sighs. "Bathroom. Why do people feel it necessary to report on the state of their bodily functions? They could simply excuse themselves without the update."

"Yeah," Rogers says. "I know I'm from a different time, but I find that weird, too. I guess we're both sort of trying to learn…"

Loki frowns. "Everything?"

Rogers grins at that, and Loki can see why everyone likes him. He's magnetic in a very innocent way. "Miss Lewis called it 'culture shock'. I had to look it up."

"I, too, have had to research idiomatic language and 'slang'. Much of it still eludes my understanding." Loki pulls his phone out of his pocket. "Darcy put an 'app' on my phone. It's a dictionary of slang terms and other…interesting things."

Rogers steps up behind Loki to peer over his shoulder. "Look up 'dame'."

_"An attractive woman who a guy wants to get to know. Often considered offensive by the females, unless you're from another century."_ Loki reads.

"Just great," Rogers moans. "Now I _still_ don't know what to call dames."

~*~

When Darcy comes back into the kitchen, Steve and Loki are huddled together over Loki's cell. She stops a moment to just look at them – dark and light, slim and solid. It makes a weird kind of sense, the two of them together. Neither of them is from around here, and if anybody's going to go around giving out second chances, it's Steve.

Then she notices Loki's wicked grin and that's Steve's face is beet red, he's got one hand slapped over his mouth, and his eyebrows are nearly to his hairline. Suddenly, she knows what this is, and ohmygodloki, NO.

"Loki, you didn't!" Darcy wails, but he did. He _so_ did. She doesn't have to look to know that what they're staring at is Urban Dictionary, and that Loki has just introduced Steve to the word "vajazzle".

"What?" Loki says, looking up. "I am simply helping the Captain feel more comfortable with the alterations to the general lexicon during his dormancy."

"He's gonna stroke out!" Darcy yells. "Steve, _breathe_!"

Steve does breathe then, lifting his hand to cradle his own forehead. Loki pats his back, still grinning at Darcy.

Just then, of course, Clint strolls into the kitchen. "What the hell is going on?"

It's Darcy's turn to drop her face into her hands. "I can't even…Loki and slang and I gave him Urban Dictionary. And there were signs with words. And he kept asking. And I told him to look them up. And, and one of them was….Oh, god. I can't even _say_ it, and we broke Captain America and, and…"

Clint gives her an odd look, then steps up to the other two men. He elbows his way in front of Rogers and looks down at the screen of Loki's phone. A second later, all Darcy can hear is howling laughter and a thump as Clint slides down to the floor. She bangs her head lightly against the wall.

"Um, Miss Lewis?" Steve's voice is strained. "Can you put this on my phone so I can look up slang words? I won't look at things like 'vaj…'"

"Don't _say_ it!" Darcy yells. "The world will end if Captain America says that word!"

Clint, who had managed to pull himself mostly upright by the edge of the counter, falls back into another heap of insane laughter and gasping for breath.

"Yes!" Darcy says. "Yes, I will put it on your phone if you swear that we _will never speak of this again_."

 


	13. Snooping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eavesdropping is so a valid form of information-gathering.

"Jarvis?" Darcy says, sitting at the small table in her kitchenette with a cup of coffee. "I know that Loki and Clint had a conversation earlier on the roof. Would it be against any of your protocols to show me the security recording of that?"

There's a pause that seem long to Darcy, but is really only a couple of seconds.

"Your request is within my protocols, Ms. Lewis. Would you like me to queue it up on the kitchen monitor?"

Darcy thinks that this might call for her squishy couch and her favorite blanket. "Living room, please." She smiles at the ceiling. "Thank you, Jarvis."

~*~

"Your nest is rather obvious, archer," Loki says, stepping out onto the roof.

"Not a nest," Clint says. "Just an observation point." Clint's half in the dark, arms crossed over his chest. His expression is closed-off, aloof, and narrow-eyed – everything about him radiating 'go away'. Darcy realizes just how much hostility Clint has been repressing for her sake.

Loki smiles and moves a bit closer, almost sidling, as if teasing Clint by ignoring the warnings. "And you're observing…"

Clint doesn't return the smile. "Right now? An unwelcome guest."

"Oh, my dear archer. You do not welcome my presence? You know why I'm here. The old forgive-and-forget routine." Loki twirls one hand slowly in a 'bored now' gesture. "You're last on my list from dear Darcy, and I'm ready to be done. Being mortal is tiresome. You've had time to consider this meeting, so I suppose there's not much forgiveness or forgetting in you." God, Darcy thinks, Loki is being _such_ a douche to Clint, totally ignoring the fact that Clint has so far been dialing back the aggression.

"Won't forgive," Clint grits out. "Can't forget. Don't bother apologizing to me."

Loki huffs out a small laugh. "Oh, my dear Barton, stalwart and unchanging to the end. Shall I tell you my regrets?" Loki touches two fingers to his own chin, looking up as if he is thinking hard. "Hmmm. If I'd had a little more time with you – _inside_ you – we would have taken the so-called 'Battle of Manhattan', and likely this city and this planet. And you would be my right hand, my eyes, mine. You would have been a useful and loyal second. I do sometimes regret that loss."

Good god, could Loki say one more shitty thing? One more thing designed to cause Clint to toss him off the building and put an arrow through him like a clay pigeon? Or maybe an _actual_ pigeon, those goddamn rats with wings. Darcy's hated pigeons ever since an outdoor-dining-shade-umbrella-pigeon-flight-miscue that had ended in near-catatonia. For Darcy, not the pigeon. The pigeon had been _fine_.

"Fuck you." Clint says.

"Mmmm…and we were so close to becoming 'frenenemies' as Darcy would say. Until yesterday." Loki pauses. "Tell me, Agent, had you not been called off, would you have loosed your arrow? And, more importantly, would you have – for the first time in your illustrious career as an assassin – missed your target? Would you have risked the humiliation, the ridicule, the _disappointment_ to put that arrow into me rather than our bomber?"

Dude, yesterday? Coulson had had Clint sniping – snipering – preparing to snipe, whatever – at them during the hostage thing? Okay, it made sense, but _really, Coulson_?

"I guess we'll never know." Clint looks away.

Loki steps closer, the tone of his voice becoming teasing. "I doubt you would have put dear Darcy in any danger, and she was so very close to me."

"Stop talking about Darcy."

Wait, what?

"But she's my friend. My 'sponsor' in this search for redemption. My guardian angel, if you will," Loki says. Darcy knows that tone. The tone that says that Loki is pushing every button he's uncovered, poking at every sore place he can find. That probably is not a good idea with Clint. Nuh-uh. Poking the tiger is almost always a poor idea.

"I can kill you without an arrow. You can't fly any more, and this is a tall building." Yup, that's pretty much what she thought he'd say. Clint's hands are curling into fists at his side, and the recording is hi-def enough that Darcy can see the tic of a small muscle in his jaw where he's clenching his teeth.

"Upsetting Darcy terribly…" Loki steps even closer.

Clint grabs him and spins him, trapping Loki in a choke-hold. "Stop saying her name. I don't want to hear it from your fucking mouth in my presence again." Clint's voice is a low growl that sends a shiver up Darcy's spine. She can see the reflection of the moonlight in Clint's eyes, and it's chilling.

Loki chokes out, "but then you wouldn't know what I know."

Clint lets him go, and Loki falls back against the door, one hand rubbing at his throat. Darcy hopes it hurts.

"What do you know that I care about?" Clint spits out.

"Oh, archer, can't we have a bit more fun first? Maybe sit and talk a while? Catch up on the gossip?" Loki slides down to sit cross-legged on the ground. "The brainless minions at SHEILD would have D…a certain individual…in some sort of thrall to me. Or maybe just an inappropriate love affair, perhaps a 'crush'? It's all so petty."

Clint's face goes stormy and vicious, his lips thinning, eyes darkening. Darcy feels a combination of cold fear and _want_. "Shut. Up." Clint says. "Shut. the. fuck. up or I swear I will break your…"

Loki cuts in. "You were here on your perch when I went out alone yesterday. You tracked me as far as you could, but even your eagle eyes can't hold a distant target forever, no? Perhaps there was a clandestine meeting away from prying eyes?" Oh, he is totally the God of Playing-With-Fire right now. Darcy can practically _see_ anger coming off Clint is waves, and Loki doesn't know that Clint has been expressly forbidden from murdering or maiming him.

"You have about ninety seconds to get off this roof. Choose the stairs or air mail, but go."

Loki takes his phone out of his pocket, and pushes a few buttons. He smiles at the screen, then hands it up to Clint. "That is what I was doing, or should I say _who_ I was doing yesterday before the 'hostage crisis'. My tryst was with a different person entirely." 

Darcy can see Loki's eyes twinkling with mirth and mischief. "You're so transparent, archer. When she touched me after the bomber business was settled – it burned you, didn't it? If you'd been using your eagle-eye without a cloak of jealousy, you'd have seen it was only in thanks. And possibly friendship, though I don't know." Loki's head is tilted, and his expression says he's trying to figure something out. Darcy would positively _kill_ to know who the photo is of. She is so stealing his phone the next time she sees him.

"In any case, once past the apology part of my redemption, I am supposed to make amends." Loki makes the 'you bore me' gesture again. "So as my amends, I give you this: were you to ask, she would say 'yes'."

"Were I to ask what?" Clint says.

"Oh, Barton. I truly am amazed by your abilities. You can see so much from up here, but you see nothing of what is right in front of you. I think I will let you decide upon the answer to that question yourself. I trust that you will eventually figure it out." Loki turns and opens the door. With a small wave, he leaves the roof.

Clint stands, looking out across the city.

"Ms. Lewis?" Jarvis breaks in. "The recording goes on for the next one hour and fifty-one minutes with no change."

Darcy swallows hard. "Uh, thank you, Jarvis. I've seen what I needed to."

"As you wish," Jarvis says, and the TV goes black.

Darcy knows that Loki is right. All Clint has to do is ask.

And oh, hell. Now she feels guilty. Even though showing her the recording was within Jarvis' protocols, she shouldn't have watched it. There's such a thing as privacy, and she'd be pissed off if someone had done the same to her. That's always been her sort-of 'am I doing something shitty?' detector, and, yeah, it's going off now. Crap. How's she gonna handle this one?

~*~

After hiding under her comfy blanket for an additional twenty minutes, Darcy sucks it up and admits to herself that she will never be able to sleep again if she doesn't confess. She's not even Catholic, but the guilt is killing her.

Before she can lose her nerve, she dashes down the hall and knocks on Clint's door.

"Yeah?" he says, answering the door, pulling on a tank top.

"Holy crap," Darcy says, totally not meaning to, but holy crap he's got about 2% body fat and his chest is _amazing_.

Clint looks at her quizzically. "Darcy? Come in."

She steps in, and as the door closes behind her she starts to babble. "Okay, I did a really bad thing, 'cause I was stupid and nosy and I just wanted to know. I shouldn't have stuck my big nose into where it didn't belong! My Gramma always said something about eavesdroppers never hearing anything they like about something, I can't remember. But I did a crappy thing and got Jarvis to show me the security feed of you talking to Loki, and ohmygod I'm still wearing my bunny slippers!" She has to stop to breathe, and Clint looks stunned.

He takes her arm and leads her to the sofa, easing her down to sit. He walks into the kitchen and brings back a bottle of water. He passes the water to her. Darcy opens it with shaking hands and takes tiny sips as she calms down.

"Uh, Darcy?" Clint says. "It's actually okay. I gave Jarvis permission to let you see the video. What your Gramma probably said, 'eavesdroppers never hear anything good about themselves'. Also, the bunny slippers are pretty cute."

After finishing about half the bottle of water, Darcy meets Clint's eyes. "You didn't care if I saw it?"

"Nope," he says.

"And it's okay that I'm, like, super-nosy?" Darcy asks.

"Darcy," Clint says, blushing a little. "I crawl through the air ducts to keep up with everything that's going on. Except Coulson's office. He always knows I'm there. Freakin' ninja."

Darcy tilts her head. Clint is so weird. He's the kind of weird that she likes, the kind of weird that likes her slippers. She wonders how he'd feel about her Hello Kitty pajamas. "You're weird," she says. "I really like that about you."

He smiles at her, and it's a beautiful thing. It's sweet, and he's blushing a bit, which is unexpected for a badass sniper/archer superhero.

"Is it true?" Clint asks quietly.

It takes Darcy a minute to connect the dots. "Oh! You mean what Loki said? About you asking and me saying yes? Well, ask."

He nods, and the blush is back. "Can I kiss you?"

"Oh, _hell_ yes," Darcy says, smiling widely.

Clint turns toward her in what is probably an uncomfortable position. He cups her cheek in one big, warm hand. Darcy leans in, and he kisses her. It's slow and soft, their lips moving together just a little, and he pulls back with a couple of little kisses, as if he doesn't quite want to let her go.

Darcy's short of breath just from a very chaste kiss, and she wonders what else is in his playbook.

Clint clears his throat. His hand stays against her cheek for a moment before he eases back onto the sofa. Once they're settled side by side, he laces their fingers together.

"Look," he says. "There's some stuff you have to know before this goes any farther." He looks off to the side and swallows hard.

"I don't do casual," he says. "It just, look, I just don't. It's all or nothing with me. I'm not easy. I'm shitty with words." He sighs. "When I freak out, I hide.  I've killed people for SHEILD, and I'll do it again. I'm an Avenger, and I don't have armor like Tony or super-strength like Cap. There's gonna be a day when I don't come back, and I know that dealing with that is a lot to ask."

"Clint," Darcy says softly. "You don't have..."

Clint picks up their linked hands and places a kiss on the back of hers. "Don't answer now. You have to think about it, about all the ramifications. You'd be taking a lot of chances."

Darcy knows that he's telling the truth: he's laying it all out. He's opening himself up and letting her see him. See _all_ of him. "For somebody who isn't good with words, you're doing okay. Walk me home?" Home's next door, but she likes the idea.

"Yeah," he says, his voice rough. He clears his throats. "Yeah, of course." He pulls her up to her feet.

At her door, Darcy decides that she should kiss _him_ , letting him know that he's not in this alone. She steps close and brushes her lips softly against his, then trails her mouth over and across his cheekbone, stopping with a tiny press of her mouth under his ear.

Clint sucks in a quick breath. "See you tomorrow?"

"Yes," Darcy answers before slipping into her apartment.

 


	14. Stop Being a Douche

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki stops being a douche.

"Ms. Lewis." Darcy and Loki are watching the feed from the helicarrier, but she immediately recognizes Coulson's voice.

"Yes, sir?" He sounds so dead serious that she automatically responds formally.

"We're going to need you and Loki down here. The hostiles have Ms. Potts."

Darcy gasps. "Pepper was in LA – she had meetings and stuff. I just talked to her this morning!"

Coulson says, "I know. The hostiles are magic-users. They took her right out of a meeting. We don't have much time. They have her inside of some sort of bubble. The Avengers can't get through. She's running out of air." He sounds _devastated_ , like he's making up for all the emotion he never shows. "Iron Man and War Machine are inbound to bring you to the site. And, Ms. Lewis? Bring the magic."

"On it," Darcy says. She grabs Loki's arm and drags him upstairs, explaining on the way. They get to Darcy's apartment, and she runs into the kitchen. She opens the freezer, grabs the block of ice and slams it down onto the kitchen floor. As it shatters, the magic rushes into her body, feeling like a punch to the solar plexus.

"Holy _shit_!" she says, both hands clutched to her chest. It's like it was the first time except _bigger. More_.

Before she can fall over backward, Loki grabs her hand and drags her out of the room. "I hear them," he says. "Let's go."

Darcy doesn't even feel the stairs under her feet before she's swept up by Iron Man. War Machine grabs Loki and they whisk off to Lower Manhattan to drop directly in front of Coulson. Iron Man pops his faceplate to look at Darcy. He doesn't say anything, but Darcy sees in his eyes that he is _desperate_.

"I'm on it, Tony," Darcy says. "I'll get her, I swear."

Tony and War Machine join the other Avengers, who are taking down what seems to be a swarm of minions/henchmen. The main guy is on top of a four-story warehouse building inside the bubble that holds Pepper, who is sitting in what looks to be a conference-room chair. When Coulson said she'd been taken from a meeting, he hadn't been exaggerating. Pepper is sitting very still. She's keeping her face impassive, but Darcy can see where she's white-knuckling the arms of the chair.

"If the sorcerer is telling the truth," Coulson says, "she's got about eight minutes of air left. If you've got a counter-spell or other fix for this, the time is now."

Darcy nods to Coulson, then turns to Loki, who looks grim. "Help me," she says. "What do I do?"

Loki speaks quickly. "You can either try to break through the bubble or stop the spell altogether."

"Which is _easier_?" Darcy says, her voice rising on the last word.

Loki frowns. "Breaking the bubble is easier, but breaking the spell is better. We have no idea where he'd send her if the bubble is breached and he's still got the spell active."

"Tell me what to do," Darcy says.

"You have to cast an opposing spell, just stronger." Loki grabs her by the shoulders and turns her to face him. "Get hold of the magic; center it in your hands. You have to have the impetus and the words. Once you cast, you have to be strong enough to get it up there, and controlled enough to hit him."

"Okay," Darcy says, trying to collect the magic like she did when she froze it. "It's all over the place, Loki – I can't get it to…" Instead of verbalizing it, she makes a gesture between them like trying to gather and hold a ball.

"Hold it as close as you can," Loki says. "You have to repeat the words exactly to make it work. No mistakes."

Darcy is shaking like a leaf, and her mouth is bone dry. "No, no," she chokes out. "You…take it…I can't." She slams both hands against Loki's chest and <i>pushes</i> the magic into him as hard as she can.

She steps back, her knees buckling, making her stumble back.

Loki looks at her wide-eyed, but doesn't hesitate. His hands start to brush lightly through the air.

"Iron Man, get in place to catch, _now_! Hawkeye, take this guy out as soon as the bubble drops." Coulson says into his radio.

"On it," Tony says, at the same time Clint says, "yes, sir," tightly.

"Now," Loki says, and everything happens so fast. From where she's braced against the wall, Darcy sees the bubble burst. Pepper's chair drops like a stone. Tony snatches her out of the air. She wraps her arms around him and the chair goes crashing to the ground forty feet below. At the same moment the bad guy drops straight to the ground with an arrow through his eye socket. Darcy slides down to the ground and covers her face.

Loki is quickly next to her. "Are you well, Darcy?"

"No," she wails. "She could have died! I screwed it up – I…I couldn't do it."

"Don't, Darcy," he says soothingly. "You did the right thing."

"But…but…Odin, he might not stop the exile "cause you had the magic back, and…and…" she's crying now, becoming hysterical at the thought that Odin might not accept it, and Loki could have to do all the work all over again and he might not want to and he'd be stuck and probably mad and shit would get destroyed and it would be her fault…and…

"Darcy," Loki says, holding her gently by the shoulders. "It's okay."

Darcy is about to answer, when Loki is snatched away from next to her. Darcy scrambles to her feet, ready to drag him back if someone is trying to kill him. What she sees is Pepper hugging a very surprised Loki.

Pepper's in tears. "You saved me, oh, my gosh, Loki. That bastard was going to let me die and you saved me." She kisses him on the cheek before hugging him tightly again. Loki awkwardly pats her on the back.

When Pepper steps away, Tony, still wearing the bottom half of the Iron Man armor, hugs Loki, too. "Thank you, man," Tony says, pulling away. Tony looks at Loki with an expression that's almost frightening in its intensity. "I…I owe you. What you did today, there's no way I could ever repay you." Tony grabs Loki by the shoulders. "Listen," he says. "Because I am dead serious about this. If there is ever anything you need, I will do everything in my power to see that you have it. Except evil, I won't do that. But _anything_."

Loki blinks in confusion as Stark lets him go. Stark then turns to Pepper, burying his face against her neck. Pepper lays her hand on Loki's forearm and looks at him very seriously. "Look," she says. "He means what he says. He has only given that promise to two people _ever_. One is Colonel Rhoads, who has saved Tony's life about a hundred times."

"And the other?" Loki asks, though he probably doesn't have to.

"Me," Pepper says.

Loki nods and steps back a few feet. He starts when Steve slaps him on the shoulder. "Good work," Steve says. Then, to Coulson, "we're done here."

Darcy feels a hand fall very softly onto her head. She looks up, and it's Clint, looking worried. "You okay, sweetheart?"

"Not really," she says, her voice hitching. "No."

Clint helps Darcy up and wipes the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. "Everyone's safe. Coulson is getting the clean-up in place. C'mon, let's go back to the Tower." He gives her a soft kiss on the lips, cupping her face. "You're okay."

She can't find the words to answer, but she lets him lead her to one of the SHEILD sedans and settle in next to her. One of the agents hands a handkerchief over the seat, and Darcy takes it and starts cleaning up her smeared makeup.

"Stark Tower," Clint tells the driver.

"Loki?" Darcy sniffs.

"In the car behind us," Clint says. "He's okay." He pulls Darcy to his chest and holds her, smoothing her hair back from her forehead the whole way.

~*~

When they reach Tony's private garage, Tony, Pepper, Bruce (back from his Hulk-out and looking extremely tired), Colonel Rhodes, Loki, Clint, Coulson, and Darcy all watch as the SHEILD vehicles leave.

"All of the elevators are waiting," Jarvis says quietly, breaking the silence. "Shall I take everyone up to the residential floors?"

"Yeah," Tony says weakly. "That's good, yeah?"

After the elevators let them out, Coulson looks at all of them in one sweeping glance. "Go get cleaned up," he says. "Meet back here to debrief in an hour."

Everyone sort of drifts away. Loki, Darcy, and Clint take the same elevator up. When they stop at Loki's floor, he turns to Darcy. "Darcy," he says. "I need to…" He places his hands lightly onto her shoulders and kisses her softly on the forehead.

Darcy can feel Clint freeze at her side for a second, but then the magic flows into her. "Holy fuck," she says. "Warn a girl!"

"Sorry," Loki says, but he's giving her a sly grin. "Why don't you put that back in the freezer for me?"

The elevator doors close, and Darcy laughs, a little hysterically, all the way back to her apartment.

An hour later, everyone gathers in the living room. Darcy looks over at Loki just in time to see a blur of black and red at the door. Oh, hell! Natasha! Darcy quickly steps protectively in front of Loki.

Everyone, including Darcy, gapes when the knife Natasha has thrown bounces right off Darcy. "Crap!" she says. "I knew I was forgetting something! The stupid magic: I forgot to put it in the freezer!"

Natasha has moved to the side and is lining up another knife throw. "Tasha! Stop!" Clint yells and she pauses.

"That's Loki, she says, and she looks around the group as if all of them have lost their minds.

"I got this," Clint says, and leads Natasha out of the room.

"Okay," Tony says brightly. "That was terrifying. Drink?" He walks to the wet bar with great purpose.

"Darcy," Loki starts, when he seriously, totally, honest-to-god _vanishes_. It looks just like when Thor goes up or down the Bifrost.

"I just can't take any more of this shit," Darcy says, sitting down. "Tony, make mine a double."

Darcy has just taken a huge sip of her drink when Loki reappears. Darcy squeaks and slaps her hand to her forehead.

Loki sits down next to Darcy and peels her palm off her forehead. "The AllFather approves of my time here, and especially of you, Darcy Lewis," he says gently. He holds out a hand, and Darcy takes it. She pushes the magic back to him, and he closes his eyes and sighs as if part of him has just snapped into place.

"Congratulations," Darcy says quietly.

He gives her a grin, then snaps his fingers before disappearing _again_.

Something appears in Darcy's hand. She looks down at it. It's a small block of ice with her SHEILD credit card frozen inside it. Darcy just sighs and drops it into her drink. "Oh my god," she says fondly. "What a douche."

 


	15. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Take a chance on Clint and Darcy.

When the debrief is over, they go their separate ways. Tony keeps his grip on Pepper's hand and leads her away. Natasha stays with Coulson. Bruce says he's going to his lab, and Steve, for the first time that any of them can remember, admits that he is tired and going to bed.

Darcy and Clint leave together. They walk down the hall, and she reaches out to hold his hand. "Yes," she says.

"Maybe I'm just tired," Clint says, "but what was the question?"

Darcy moves closer, laying her head on his shoulder as they keep walking to the elevator. "Us," she says simply. "What you said about risks and taking chances. I want in."

"Why?" Clint asks, sounding honestly curious.

"I don't want to do casual," she says. "If it's all or nothing with you, then I want it all. I'm moody and I forget stuff all the time. When I freak out, I babble. I'm not even an Avenger, and I've almost gotten killed twice in the last couple of days. We're part of a life where anything can happen, so if it's all the same to you, I'd like all that stuff to happen _with_ you, rather than without you."

Darcy picks up their linked hands and places a kiss on the back of his. "So, you in this thing with me?"

Clint stops walking and pulls her into a tight hug. "I'm in," he says.

Darcy smooshes her nose against his neck. He smells like soap and shampoo and like a regular person. He's not one, because earlier he smelled like smoke, dirt, sweat and the weird ozone/electricity scent of magic.

"Let's go to your place," she says, pulling back to give him a wicked grin. "Take a chance."

~end


End file.
